


Baby It's Cold Outside

by potentiality_26



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: F/M, Face-Sitting, First Time, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-04-04 08:26:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14016255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potentiality_26/pseuds/potentiality_26
Summary: She knew perfectly well that Strike wouldn’t leave to stay with a friend until the power came back on and it was warmer in here- he hadn’t done it when he was living in this office, and he wouldn’t do it now.  He would just wait until she was safely on her way, and then go upstairs to deal with the cold as he dealt with too many things- stubbornly on his own.  “I’m not leaving,” she said.  She didn’t bother looking out the window to confirm that this was the right idea.  She had already decided.  “I’m not leaving you.”“What are partners for, eh?” Strike said, but the way he was looking at her said a great deal more.  And Robin just looked back, steady, sure, and actually a trifle overheated.AfterWarmth, one thing leads to another.





	Baby It's Cold Outside

**Author's Note:**

> So [lindmea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lindmea/pseuds/lindmea) and [reindeerjumper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reindeerjumper/pseuds/reindeerjumper) wanted a sequel to [Warmth](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13170918) where Robin and Cormoran find more ways to keep warm, by which I hope they meant shameless smut because that's all this is. I could have sworn I remembered seeing a fic in the fandom with this title before, but I can't seem to find it now, so... *shrugs*
> 
> Not Brit-picked.

Robin wasn’t sure exactly how it happened.

She knew that she had cuddled up to Strike's side against the cold and dozed off that way.  She knew that at some point he warmed enough to the cuddling idea that he rubbed her back lightly and ran careful fingers through her hair.  She knew that she woke again slowly, and swallowed an apology for drooling on his shirtfront or something similarly unsexy- because he was looking down at her in a way that didn’t make her _feel_ unsexy.  Not at all.

She blinked up at him as if that would rearrange his expression into one more typical of him- gentle fondness, perhaps, or even gentler annoyance.  It wasn’t that Robin was unaware of the potential for something more between them.  She had ignored it because it confused her, because she was with Matthew and then- later- because she had just left Matthew and she was only beginning to get used to being Robin-without-Matthew, and then- later still- because her partnership with Strike was the most important thing in her life and she was afraid to ruin it.  And yet for all she had deliberately ignored it, that potential remained an unexpected thing, a thing that made her mouth go dry when a silence stretched too long, or a look softened too much, or a touch thrilled too deep.

“Still warm enough?” Strike asked her.  The twist of his lips was wry, but there was an intensity still in his eyes that Robin couldn’t quite tear her own away from. 

In fact, she hardly noticed the cold.

Strike looked away from her suddenly.  He fussed with the blanket still wrapped around their shoulders and examined its brightly colored stitching.  “We should-” he started, clearing his throat. 

Robin said, “Go upstairs.”

At the same time, he finished, “Both be heading out.”

His eyes snapped back to her as suddenly as they had left her.

Robin sat up a little, bringing her face even closer to his.  She knew perfectly well that Strike wouldn’t leave to stay with a friend until the power came back on and it was warmer in here- he hadn’t done it when he was living in this office, and he wouldn’t do it now.  He would just wait until she was safely on her way, and then go upstairs to deal with the cold as he dealt with too many things- stubbornly on his own.  “I’m not leaving,” she said.  She didn’t bother looking out the window to confirm that this was the right idea.  She had already decided.  “I’m not leaving you.” 

“What are partners for, eh?” Strike said, but the way he was looking at her said a great deal more.  And Robin just looked back, steady, sure, and actually a trifle overheated.  And then-

And then his lips were on hers, firm and heated but not rough- a kind of question she wasn’t sure which of them was asking.  She thought it must have been him because he broke away briefly to apologize, in hitching tones, for doing it.  And then it must have been her that interrupted him with another kiss, this one deeper and by no means hesitant, because she never did accept his apology.

“We should go upstairs,” Robin repeated at some point.  She wanted to keep kissing him- she was only just getting used to the taste of the tea she always made on his tongue and to the feel of his lips working against hers- but she knew from experience that those stairs were difficult to negotiate at the best of times, and between the cold and the dark and the newness of _this_ these would not be the best of times.

She met Strike’s eyes from up very close- his forehead had fitted itself to hers like a puzzle piece- and he nodded as if dazed. 

There were moments when it was difficult for Robin to believe that she had ever thought he was anything but gorgeous.  This moment now was definitely among them. 

And he had wanted this too; she knew it from the way he held her gaze- firm, intense, but still shy and a little wild with _hope_.  “Upstairs,” he repeated, like he had just now heard the word for first time. 

“Yeah,” she said, kissing him once more.  “Upstairs.”

They made it to Strike’s flat without incident- a miracle, Robin would think later, when she had time to reflect on the subject.  It was somehow even colder up there.  “Isn’t heat supposed to rise?” Robin grumbled in between shivers and kisses.  That made him laugh.  It was dark, too, without the candles that Robin had lit and then blown out down in the office, and they had to feel around the bedroom with only the light reflecting up off the snow and streaming in through the windows. 

Robin shed a few outer layers- just her jacket and jeans- and hopped into the bed.  Strike took a while longer, fumbling first with his clothes and then with his leg, swearing quietly until he managed to put it aside and join her.  She giggled again.  “Getting up for the toilet is going to be a nightmare,” she said, pulling the covers up tight around them both once he was settled. 

He snorted and drew her only closer, letting her press up against his chest- truly a source of excellent heat.  “Hey,” he said, when she finally got into a position she liked and stopped wriggling.  Up this close she could make out his face well enough, read the humor written across it and bask in the affection sparkling through his eyes.

“Hey,” she said in return, everything else drying up on her tongue. 

She would have expected this momentary pause to make her reconsider doing anything more than they had already done- anything more than they could not now undo- but in fact it solidified it.  Despite the cold, and the inconvenience of the power outage, Robin couldn’t remember the last time she had been quite so content.  It had been good, after Matthew, for her to get used to being alone.  To discover that it wasn’t anywhere near as bad as she had always feared it would be.

But now… now she was ready for things to change again, though with him only half-dressed and fitted so tightly up against her it was difficult to find the right words to express it. 

And in the end he looked at her, and she looked back, and his eyes crinkled faintly as he smiled at her, and she knew that she didn’t have to say anything at all.

“Hey,” he repeated, and kissed her again. 

These kisses were even softer than the ones they had shared before- slower, warmer, sweeter- and they were the best guard against the chill still on the air that Robin could think of.  She smiled against his mouth as she drew closer to him still, then said, "Ooof," as the back of her head hit the pillow, jarring the ponytail she had forgotten to take out of her hair. 

His hands slid up the back of her neck and into that hair, working it free for her. 

She sat up a little to help him.  “Thanks.”

“What are partners for?” he said again, a teasing look in his eyes but also a kind of awe in his face as he watched her.  She knew her hair was pretty- she could see it out of the corner of her eye and was aware that it fell around her face fetchingly as she leaned over him- but even if it didn’t, he certainly stared at her though it did. Robin couldn’t remember the last time she had felt so desirable. 

She liked it.  A lot.

She pressed up against his chest, working her hands up underneath his shirt and rucking it up, grazing her nails across smooth skin and rough hair.  He groaned softly, sitting up a little to help her as she peeled his shirt up over his head.

She kissed him some more and moved to straddle him, her knees fitted up against either side of his torso and pressing into his sheets.  They were a little cool still, but they surely wouldn’t be for much longer.

For a while she simply enjoyed his kisses and the path his hands traced, first over her back, then over her front, a broad palm grazing across her breast from underneath her shirt, a calloused finger teasing her nipple through her bra.  His other hand settled against her hip.  Whenever his touch felt particularly good she rocked a little against him, and the motion sent sparks of pleasure through her.  Her breath stuttered across his lips. 

"I like it up here," she told him finally, breathless and between kisses.  "I may never move."

"I like you there too," he replied.  His expression made it obvious that he very much meant it.  "But...”  His hand slipped down again, from her hip to her thigh, and then hooked up under her panties, so his thumb could slide across the wetness he found there and make her squirm.  “You could get closer, couldn't you?"  He swallowed.  "I want to taste you."  Then, "I'd rather not crawl around too much."

She flushed- in the best possible way- when she realized what he was suggesting.  The last vestiges of cold she felt blew away, leaving only sparks of heat in their place- sparks that tingled through every part of her where he had put his hands.  "I suppose," she said, as if it was a great concession- but she was sure he could see how utterly untrue that was.  In case he couldn't, she kissed him again, hard, before she backed up to peel her panties off and discard them.  Some of the maneuver would have felt ungainly if it wasn't for the way he was looking at her.  She didn’t want him to ever stop looking at her like that. 

Or- well, it might be bad for the business if he _always_ looked at her like that.  She wouldn’t want to end up draped over her desk at an inappropriate time.  It might scare away the clientele.  She laughed at the thought.

“What?” he asked softly. 

“Nothing,” she replied.  “Or, well, nothing that can’t wait.”

As she said so, she got herself positioned up above his head where he lay back on the pillows.  His eyes darkened and his nostrils flared and he said, “I won’t argue with that.”

His hands slid across her flanks and then came to rest- one a whisper on her hip, the other a bracing weight on the small of her back.  She had to hold herself steady- with considerable effort- as his thumb stroked across her inner thigh, making her shudder as he guided her toward his mouth.  "I think this could constitute a workout," Robin said, and then he got himself properly situated and the feel of his breath made her run out of things to say altogether.  If she had thought his hands on her were warm, that was nothing to his lips. 

At first he just kissed around her thighs, lips soft and facial hair faintly rough, faintly tickling, as he teased steadily closer.  And then his tongue joined them, so wet and hot.  He worked up to it, taking his time getting anywhere near her clit, and she was already shaking and panting when he finally got there, applying pressure with his tongue first, then just the faintest suction.  A cry shuddered out of her lips, and he hummed as if in agreement.  She rocked against him in return, seeking more of that feeling, letting her fingers drag down to touch the top of his head.

He seemed eager to give it to her.  He upped the pace, working with considerable skill and enthusiasm, and her head lolled back until she could no longer see him below her.  But she could feel his hair underneath her fingers, feel his mouth kissing and working her, and that was just as good.  That was so good she wasn’t sure she could take it much longer.

He must have heard that in her voice, in the keening sound she made, because then he did what he had been doing, again, and again, and again, until what felt like a wave inside her crested and broke, spilling out over both of them.

She collapsed onto the pillows beside him, and he leaned over her a moment later.  He stroked her hair, and she reached up to touch his face, run her fingers across his now shiny-swollen lips.  

She kissed him like that, deep, pressing up against his side, his chest.  She hiked a leg over him to get closer still, and felt him hard at her thigh.  "Can I touch you?" she asked, mostly teasing.

And he laughed softly, touching her neck gently and then running his fingers through her hair, but his voice was heavier than usual, pure gravel, when he said, "Please."

She didn't hesitate, working her fingers into his pants to draw him out.  And she liked the heat, the weight of him in her hand.  She liked the pleasure darting across his face even better, and she watched him obsessively as she let her hand glide from the base of his cock to the head and then back again.  "Like that?" she asked as she gave a certain twist of her wrist and his breath hitched magnificently. 

She hardly needed an answer, just as well because he said only, “You're so-”

And Robin didn’t get to hear exactly what she was so, because she caught his mouth and kissed him again right at that moment, but she certainly got the general idea.  She kept kissing him, kept touching him, and only a few strokes later he came across her hand, his grip tightening beautifully in her hair. 

She kissed his forehead a few times, just waiting while he caught his breath.  When he had she kissed his lips- a little goodbye, though just for a moment- and sat up, reaching out to grab a handful of the tissues at his bedside table to clean him up.

She looked at her own arm and saw that it was shaking, she was shaking, with something almost more intense than her orgasm- and it had been a while, since she came that hard, or indeed at all. 

By then he recovered himself enough to smile up at her, and his eyes crinkled with humor but gleamed with the faintest hesitation, too, as he reached out to her.  “I hope you're not shivering after all that,” he said, running his hand along that arm up to her shoulder, her neck, her hair.

“No,” she replied, though she knew all the sweat that had trickled down her neck and back would probably grow unpleasantly chilly before long.  For now, though, she was just... so happy.  As happy as she could remember having been in a very long time.  She grinned and pressed him back into the sheets again.  “I’m not.”  Her hair fanned out around him like a curtain as she kissed him again.  “I’m quite warm.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Come see me on [tumblr](http://potentiality-26.tumblr.com/).


End file.
